When I was in middle school there was a kid who was being bullied. I didn't participate, but I didn't intervene. I told my mom about it in passing a few years later and she asked didn't it bother me knowing that someone didn't have any friends. And I realized that 1/

I just hadn't thought of it that way. I hadn't thought of it at all. I had just taken it as fact. You know, that kid likes baseball, that girl is really smart, that kid gets bullied. But once I did, It did. It really did. It still does. I'm truly ashamed that I didn't help 2/

I'm ashamed of the blind spot in my empathy. Socially, I could've helped end it at no cost to myself. I told myself to remember that lesson. Because it's so easy to forget. It's easy to find yourself as part of a culture the worst elements of which you don't agree with and 3/

Would never countenance if asked about it directly. But the blindness is complicity. Anyone who really knows me knows that I have a pretty high threshold for what's "in bounds" onstage. I think it's hard to do, but if you can get a blackface bit to work, fuck it. Do dat shit. 4/

And I've never been into finger snap/soapbox comedy, or even just shit that's cute. I think the roughness of comedy is the heart of its charm. The subversivenes and license earned alone in rental cars and motels. And I've always believed that funny is funny. But it isn't. 5/

If funny was funny so many women comics I respect and admire wouldn't be screaming from the rooftops about the toxic culture in comedy and how it makes them feel. How oppressive it is to pursue it and how they need their peers to acknowledge what they're going through. 6/

If funny was funny, they wouldn't have a harder time being taken seriously, they wouldn't be underrepresented, they wouldn't be more likely to quit. Their male peers wouldn't not speak up for fear of career damage. Being "undeniable" goes both ways, right? So, I'm hearing them 7/

And I'm seeing it the way I saw it then. The blindspot in my own empathy. I'm 13 years into comedy now and I know how hard it was for me to battle my way up. And for all of the racist shit I heard, I never had to worry about my safety at an open mic (at least from other comics)8/

I never had to worry about leaving my drink, or if I could trust the people I thought were my friends not to ruin the best thing in the world for me before I ever got a chance to see if I could do it. Comedy is hard. Good. But it's so much harder for women and It shouldn't be. 9/

It's hard being a black comic. And on the road, I have had some wild experiences. That comes with it. But, I never had to worry about riding up with someone who might try something and I never had to worry about how I'd get home if they took rejection poorly. Its different. 10/

I love comedy more than anything. It's the best thing that's ever happened to me. I've given my life to it and gotten back more than most and there's so much more I hope I get the chance to do. I won't sell my soul but I'll do just about anything else (call my agent ) 11/

to get to do it forever and I've gotten to meet and know so many incredibly funny women. I know they feel the same way about comedy. I can't go back and help that kid and I know my women comedy friends can handle themselves, but for what it's worth y'all, I got your back. 12/

I doubt I've been perfect in the past. And I know I can't be going forward. But I can promise that I'll try my best to be better and I'll do what little I can to try to make things better. You're my friends, my peers, and comedy would never be as much fun without you. /x